Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath (10 page)

Judge me if you want, but when I saw those two little girls for the first time, and I knew they were now in my hands to keep safe, I smiled that smile I was talking about earlier, and oh boy, did those tears start running.
 

Ah fuck me Mr. Journal. I lost it. I just started saying how sorry I was, and how much I wanted to do the right thing, and be a good man, and so much angst just let loose and purged and just wow. It was a sight to see I’m sure. Lindsey was sweet. She stepped out onto the concrete stairs, and just put her arms around me, and rested her head on my chest, and told me everything would be okay.

Of course she was crying too at that point, and the girls had no idea what was happening, and like a lot of kids do, when mom or dad cries, they start in too. Shit Patty was a wreck before long too, and there we were.
 

Three adults and two little girls standing on an empty street, in a dead town, in the middle of nowhere, crying. Mourning the dead, mourning our mistakes, and comforting each other in the hopes that we could do something positive with what was left.

We stood like that for some time. Minutes, an hour I don’t know. Neither Lindsey or I wanted to be the first to let go. Eventually the Ranger wannabe somewhere inside me kicked in and told me we weren’t safe standing there, and I let go of her and ushered us all inside.

Lindsey offered us some water, which we politely refused. The water was dirty. Watching the little girls sip a cup filled with water that had debris in the bottom of it curdled my guts. We’ve got so much fresh water on campus.

I asked her about Doug, and she told me about their marriage, their life together, and the two girls. Maddison is very good at English, and little Andrea colors in the lines better than anyone ever. She produced a stack of tattered coloring books to prove her prowess. They were very good.

Eventually Lindsey got the two girls to go off with Patty, and as soon as it was the two of us, she asked me about my dream. I’m very uncomfortable talking about these dreams. Stranger or friend, for some reason I feel like a fucking crackpot. But, I told her. I felt honesty was the best policy, and if she didn’t think I was insane after Abby told her everything, then I figured what could the worst outcome be?

When I finished telling her everything, right down to the specific ways Doug stood, and talked, and how he pronounced certain words, she just nodded slowly for a few seconds. Finally, she said this:

“Adrian, that was real. I’m certain of it. That had to have been Doug. Only he would’ve said those things, and the only way you would’ve know we were here was if he told you. If Doug trusted you enough to ask you to help us, then I need to trust you and your people.”

And that was it. She asked what her living options were, and I told her about the campus, and the dorms, and the area, and after ten minutes of debating the various benefits of each place, she decided that she did not want to be right on campus yet. But, she wanted to grow some vegetables in a garden to help with the food. Lindsey was very concerned about being a burden on us. The best choice, and the safest choice was the farm at the end of Jones Road.

Think about it Mr. Journal, it’s damn near perfect. It’s more or less on the inside of the semi we’ve got blocking the road, it’s got fertile soil for growing, it’s fenced in, has plenty of space, a pair of fireplaces, is within walking distance, and will allow us to have two fields of crops growing simultaneously.
 

Lindsey told the girls, and once they were excited about it, we were off. They had next to nothing to pack. They’d left for the north with nothing, they returned with nothing, and they left Lindsey’s sister’s house the same. I’d like to remedy that. Those girls need toys, and clothes, and love, and my people and I will make that happen. That family has been through hell, and it’s long overdue that they get at least a little rest and happiness.

They drove their own truck (a beat to shit Nissan, btw) with us back to their house, which is now our safe house. We went inside with them before Blake arrived for our meeting, and they gathered all the things that they had to leave behind when this whole nightmare started. The girls were beyond giddy, but Lindsey stopped and saw the blood smears on the kitchen floor. After that, she had to get outside to breathe.

Once they had filled the bed of their truck with the things they wanted, Patty drove them back to Jones Road. Blake pulled in moments later.

Once again Blake was edgy, and he was a little hyper about getting as much info as we could possibly give him. Basically I told him I spent twelve hours yesterday with eyes on The Farm. I told him I confirmed everything he’d shown us, and I told him that I felt that there was something clearly off about the farm.

God he literally danced for joy. Right there in the living room of the safe house fifteen feet from where I blew Doug Manning’s kidney out his asshole. What a world Mr. Journal.

He was not pleased when I told him we were not ready to do anything about the farm. Gilbert and Gavin were both outside when I told him, and Gilbert came inside when he heard Blake screaming at me, asking me what the hell was wrong with us.

I was telling him as calmly as I could that we needed more time to meet with our other allies, and that we needed more time with eyes on the farm to get some perspective, but all he was hearing was, “Adrian saw shady business, and was unwilling to do shit about it.”

Gilbert walked in there, watched me trying to handle him with the sympathetic kid gloves, and cleared his throat loudly.
 

Blake stopped yelling at me, and looked over at Gilbert. He said, “Stay out of this old man. You don’t know shit. Either you’re helping me, or you’re in my way.”

Now, I am not a man known for an excess of intelligence. I’ve done a lot of dumb in my years, and I’ve paid the price for it. I can safely say, that in my dumbest moments, I never would’ve talked to Gilbert like that. Not without a lot better relationship than the two of them have.

Without missing a beat, as fast as a mongoose, Gilbert drew his 1911, thumbed the hammer back and dropped the safety, and he put that barrel snug under Blake’s fucking chin. Blake froze solid, and looked down at Gilbert’s eyes, which as you’d imagine were as cold as ice.

“Tell me what I don’t know one more time son. Just one more time.” The world stopped. “Say it to my face you ignorant little prick.”

I drew my handgun as well. We stood like that for a solid fifteen seconds before Gilbert spoke again, and like he always has, he put it all out there, unvarnished. Raw. “Blake, you are yelling at a man that you have pointed a gun at. You have snuck onto our property with a weapon, lied to our faces about months of your activity, issued demands, taken our food and water, and now you have the goddamn gall to tell us to risk our lives over a mistake you made months ago? I don’t fucking think your head is screwed on straight if you think you can get away with this shit. Not with me here son. You keep this shit up, and I’ll squeeze this trigger and your baby will have a stranger for a daddy, you understand me?”

By that point Blake was shitting himself. His cheeks were streaming with tears, he was shaking but he mustered a nod, and a string of rambling apologies. Gilbert kept the gun under Blake’s jaw until he was satisfied he’d put the fear of God in the kid. As soon as he took the big .45 away, Blake went down in a heap on the dirty carpet, sobbing.

I won’t recant what he said precisely, but Blake let it all out. I mean all of it. He sobbed like I had sobbed earlier when I saw those little girls. He was so afraid for the woman he loved, and absolutely petrified for the baby inside her belly that he knew to his core was his. He’s young, he’s been alone for months, trying to survive amongst the horror that’s out there, and all the while he’s watched other people dominate his sole remaining loved one.

I cannot even fathom how fucked up that kid is. I hope the next person we find is a therapist because he desperately needs one. Once he’d gotten it all out, Gilbert got him up, and the two of them embraced. It might sound strange, but the two of them instantly bonded like you can’t imagine. Gilbert has this aura, this energy of wisdom that people gravitate to. Maybe it’s his balding head, or his snow white hair, or his wrinkles, or something I can’t describe, but the man can connect with people. The whole nastiness with the Colt was forgotten, and Blake had seen our light.

We all agreed that Blake would return with us. He can’t be alone anymore, and with Westfield arriving tomorrow for a trade and a meeting, we felt it was important that he be there to tell his side of the story firsthand to them.
 

We drove home to the campus right after we heard Gavin call out contact outside the safe house. He had dropped a couple zombies about fifty yards away from us with a halligan. He’s getting damn good with that thing.
 

I veered off after I got the semi back into position in the road and visited Lindsey and the girls to ensure that they were safe and sound. I invited them back to the campus for dinner, and they came. The girls had a blast with us. Friendly people, fresh kool-aid, a hot shower, and a hot meal? It’s like paradise for these people. Watching them play in the living room of Hall E while the girls sat around and talked about us men and Melissa’s baby, and the men talked about guns and ammo, and how pretty the girls looked made me think that maybe, just maybe there was hope for us. Maybe us all.

Westfield comes tomorrow. We’re going to bring up The Farm, and try to figure out how to handle it.

-Adrian

May 8
^th

I’m not going to write about what I want to write about. Not yet at least. Priorities.

Long exhale. I can’t believe how much went down today. It’s astonishing how much we can accomplish when we work together and nothing bad happens. We had a lot of extra hands here to help too.
 

Blake was here all day, Lindsey was here with the girls, and instead of going out and clearing houses or trying to find fencing, we all stayed put, and got shit done here. At about noon we got the radio from Mike that he was incoming, and shortly after he, Chris, Mallory, and Hector rolled in with the water truck and a humvee.

What did we get done? (In no particular order, btw) We got the water pump at the Jones Road farm fixed so there is fresh water for the girls, as well as for the garden. While there, we planted the beginning of a substantial garden. Ollie dug out his “farming genius” skills, and we got cucumbers, green beans, squash, tomatoes, beets, and a handful of hot pepper variants in the ground. Apparently these are easy to grow, and require very little work comparatively. The other thing that he is trying to be mindful of, is what his dad is planting. We need to rotate crops annually to ensure our fields don’t go fallow, and we also don’t want to be growing the same shit Lenny is. No sense trading sacks of potatoes back and forth.

We procured a better truck for Lindsey and the girls from one of the yards on Route 18 near the burnt out gas station. It’s a small Chevy that will work well for them for some time. Of course it shit the bed on the way back up Auburn Lake Road, but Blake got it running again after he douched the fuel lines and did whatever it is he does to make it all work. Btw, Blake is also the one who fixed the water pump at the farm. He’s a useful one when he’s not loopy. We also fortified the Manning farm windows and doors to ensure that if they were attacked by the undead, they could hold out long enough for us to arrive and assist.

We got about 60 feet of fence up along the edge of the water near admissions. We started the fence right where we’ll be building a gate, according to Ollie. Ollie’s plan is to encircle campus with the fence so we can let the cows roam and eat grass as needed. We just need cows now.

Once team Westfield arrived we put them to work on the above mentioned projects, filled their water tank, made some profitable trades for both groups (really nothing special other than bread for us, which will be fucking awesome. We have so much peanut butter and jelly kicking around here), and we sat down and had our meeting. Because there were so many of us, we actually sat on the Hall A porch so we could get some fresh air. Half of us were on the benches on the porch, some on the railings, and a few of us just plopped down in the grass. It was a nice day today.

Things went… downhill sharply there.

I did most of the talking for the presentation or conversation, whatever the hell you want to call it. I seem to have inherited the role of spokesperson, which I guess I brought on myself. I put all the information out about The Farm. I omitted everything about the dream I had. I didn’t feel that needed to be a part of the discussion just yet.

Blake interrupted me at least six times to put his two cents in where he felt I was leaving some crucial fact out. The first couple times I was appreciative of his assistance, but after a bit I started to get irritated, and finally told him to calm the fuck down until I was done. He made an ugly face at me, but he shut up long enough for me to get the whole story out. Once I was done, he filled in a few more blanks, and the questions came in.

I didn’t have the answers to everything. In fact, I didn’t have the answers to much of anything. All the questions Mike and them had were the questions we still had. Military guys that we are (were) we obsess over logistics. Avenues of attack, numbers of opposition, armament, infiltration routes, escape plans, what ifs, etc.
 

It got ugly when the morality issue was brought up. Mike was the one to open the can of worms, and within minutes, I knew he was regretting ever opening his mouth.

“So let me get this straight, there’s a farm growing food, making babies, and keeping people safe out there somewhere, and you all want to go over, and rock the boat to make sure everything is kosher?”

We all agreed with him. I mean basically that was the deal.

“You realize they’re already doing what we’re aiming to do, right? I mean, it sounds like jealousy if you look at it under a microscope.” Mike shrugged. He was kind of pointing out the obvious.